


Falling, Crying, Waking Up

by sb_essebi



Series: Whouffaldi one-shots [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Planet, Alien life-form, Angst, F/M, Mind Control, Pre-Relationship, non-con use of telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sb_essebi/pseuds/sb_essebi
Summary: Prompt by TheBigCat: include this scene: ||"Clara." The tone in his voice stops her. "Clara. Look at me for a moment." He tilts her chin up with one icy finger, forcing her to gaze up. Something flickers in her eyes before a film of yellow slams down over the irises. She shudders abruptly, still looking at him as she crumples to the ground. Her eyes shut, and her body twitches.||





	Falling, Crying, Waking Up

The temptation of the TARDIS landing on a planet where he's never been before is irresistible for the Doctor. He immediately steps out of his ship, and Clara is close behind. His enthusiasm has the power to make her as thrilled as he is and she revels in the sound of his voice as he marvels at the beauty of the cave they enter. 

It is a long tunnel with walls covered with violet crystals of so many shapes and dimensions that he loses count. He's lost staring at the ceiling of the cave, lost in the masterpiece that nature is able to produce, given the right minerals and light and temperature and eons of time. He could stay here all day, admiring, enjoying, theorizing. In this incarnation he has a new wonder for the universe, after 900 years stranded in the same place, he craves for new knowledge, new experience, new action and mystery. He's sick of war, of defending a trench doomed to fall. 

The cold doesn't bother him and they spend long minutes walking in the icy, dark tunnels. It is only after more than one hour that he notices, as the cold gets more and more intense, that although he has been gazing in awe at the surroundings, speaking aloud all the while, Clara has barely answered with monosyllables. Of course, she isn't the kind of girl who is always talking, but he expects at least some questions. They always ask questions. And he likes it. He always notices when they do, and, hell, he has never noticed before that he misses it when they don't. The silence is becoming almost creepy, if he just stops talking for a minute. He can almost sense a presence, like a spine-chilling breath at the back of his neck, the hair at the nape of it raising… 

"You can answer me, you know." he says, just to break the disturbing lack of sound. "It's not a monologue."

"Yes," she answers tonelessly from behind his back.

"Go on then!" he snaps after a moment of silence, still walking and observing the ceiling.

"When do we go back?"

He stops and turns towards her, a worried look on his face: she's never acted like this, so…indifferent. 

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes."

The Doctor gives her a proper look: she's pale and her arms are rigid at her sides, hands closed in tight fists. He realizes she must be freezing. Even his cool breath is coming out in small white puffs, now. He casually touches his hand, finding it cold.

"Aren't you cold?"

"No."

She's not meeting his gaze as she speaks, eyes fixed on the ground. He wonders why. He's sure that something is wrong.

"We'll go back, shall we?" he offers.

She turns her back at him without a single word and starts walking swiftly down the path they came from. 

"Clara," he calls. She keeps walking, albeit more slowly. " _Clara._ " The tone in his voice stops her. "Clara. Look at me for a moment." 

He tilts her chin up with one icy finger, forcing her to gaze up. Something flickers in her eyes before a film of yellow slams down over the irises. She shudders abruptly, still looking at him as she crumples to the ground. Her eyes shut, and her body twitches. 

"Oh, no, no,  _no_." 

He sinks on his knees and cradles her head and shoulders on his lap. "Clara. Clara. Stay with me. Look at me. Clara." He leaves encouraging pats on her cheeks in hopes to see her recover. He can see her eyes move rapidly beneath her eyelids and her breaths are shallow and laboured. The back of his hand brushes delicately her jawline and neck, finding her skin ice-cold and her pulse racing. He doesn't need the sonic screwdriver to understand what's happening. He takes her in his arms and runs. 

*** 

' _Clara. I know you're still in there. Answer me. Clara.'_

Clara can hear the Doctor's voice as a distant, distant whisper. It feels like someone calling her to wake her, even though she doesn't remember going to bed. Actually, she remembers so little after entering that cave…

' _Clara!'_

The voice is louder this time and she decides to open her eyes to answer him, as well as to question him on why would he ever be in her bedroom…when all of a sudden she realizes she can't move.

' _Why can't I open my eyes?'_  she panics. 

' _(Thank Rassilon, you're still with me.) Because something else has the control of your body now. (You'll be okay I promise)'_  says his voice, at first a whisper, then louder and finally a whisper again. As if he's been talking to himself at the beginning and at the end of the sentence.

' _Why can we talk then?'_

' _We can't. We're communicating through telepathy,'_  he answers simply.

' _You're in my head!'_  she protests.

' _Just brushing your mind. I'm not peeking…(well, I'm doing my best, something will slip anyway. And it's tempting. What does she think of me?)'_

' _I can…(hear what you're thinking).'_  

She notices now that her head hurts, and that the pain is increasing rapidly. 

' _I know. I can't keep you out if I want to talk like this…and you're not used to it so, well, you **are** peeking.'_

' _I'm sorry.'_ The voice of her thoughts grows weaker and more high-pitched as the feel of a terrible headache turns into the feel of burning blades stabbing her brain.

' _Don't be. (what if she sees, what if she reads what you- no, no don't think of your feelings for her now.) Enough with this silliness, there's a mind parasite in your head, trying to take over your brain. It has already taken the body, you don't have much time.'_

' _It hurts,'_  she cries out.  _'Why does it hurt?'_  She wants to focus on what has just slipped from his mind, but the pain is the only thing she can think about now.

He can feel her fear in his mind as her mental scream reverberates in his brain, and his hearts speed up a bit.

' _Because it's trying to subjugate you.'_

' _Help me!'_  she begs. She's inwardly crying now, and it breaks his hearts deep inside his chest. 

' _I can't help you. It's your mind. I can't tell what's you and what's not (as if I couldn't- no! What if you hurt her?) You have to do this alone.'_

'… _h-how?'_

The Doctor pushes his mind slightly deeper into hers, trying to not think about how intimate this contact is, trying to keep his mind as blank as he can because he knows that she can read the surface of his mind.

' _Can you feel me?'_  he asks, _'The difference between my mind and yours?'_

' _Ye-yes.'_  

At this point Clara is actually sobbing, hot tears rolling down her cheeks even though she is still unconscious in his arms.

' _That's what you must look for…an intrusion…(as if my touch was anything like that bloody parasite trying to invade your mind). Find it, push it away (I know you can).'_

' _I can't. I-I can't.'_  

The pain is blinding, deafening. Her head feels like it's about to explode. She feels another presence, coming forward, awaiting, whispering to her, suggesting her to give up…and she might just do that, if the pain is going to stop… 

' _Clara! No! Don't you dare! Don't listen to it!'_  the Doctor screams, sensing her intentions.

' _Yesss, yesss, do give in to me humannn…the pain will stoppp…'_  the voice murmurs treacherously.

' _Clara! No!'_  The Doctor can hear the voice too now, and before he can realize it his mind is crashing over Clara's, pushing out the intruder. The girl gasps in his embrace as her eyes pop open and a light yellow film appears over them again, only to disintegrate in a billion golden particles a second later. The Doctor is ready, letting Clara's head fall back on her pillow, taking a small glass container from the depths of his pocket on sonicing the particles into it. 

"I've got you!" he utters triumphantly as he stares at the small golden atoms bouncing furiously in their new prison. 

"…Doctor…"

"It's alright now, Clara" he soothes, placing the container on the bedside table and sitting back on her bed beside her.

"Where am I?" she whispers, eyes still closed.

"Your bedroom, in the TARDIS. You should try to get some sleep now."

Her eyes open and search for his. "The pain is gone." 

"I know." He takes the container and shakes it lightly, torturing its occupant. "Next time I will do a scan for alien life forms." 

She chuckles weakly. "We both know you won't." After a long pause, she adds: "It wasn't your fault."

' _Oh yes, it was,'_  he thinks. "Sleep, Clara."

Her eyes close again and she turns to lie on her side. The Doctor stays where he is, watching over her, and he waits until her breath becomes calm and regular. He gets up and gently tucks the blankets well over her shoulders. He leans over her and places a feather-light kiss on the side of her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispers before silently leaving the room. 

The Doctor never knew that Clara had fallen asleep, but had woken up as soon as he had tucked her covers. She suddenly recalled one of the bits that had slipped from his mind: 

' _What if she sees, what if she reads what you- no, no don't think of your feelings for her now.'_


End file.
